


Cold

by Yaoi



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Anorexia, Eating Disorders, F/M, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 14:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21459445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yaoi/pseuds/Yaoi
Summary: TW// eating disorderEvery time he looked at her, he didn't realize he was holding his breath in hopes that hers didn't still.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Original Female Character(s), Dick Grayson/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	Cold

December. January. February.

The past winter months had been long and cold. In the silent morning, the light outside was almost blinding as the sun reflected brightly off the snow, which covered everything in sight. Dick could feel a bit of warmth on his face from the sun’s rays, a slightly pleasant feeling compared to the freezing cold nipping at his nose.

His back was turned away from the estate behind him, but he could sense a tired gaze observing him from the large windows of the manor. For a moment, he wondered how long he’d been standing outside for. A few hours maybe. He grew indifferent to the sensations of pain in his fingers and the stinging in his cheeks. He hadn’t thought to have worn anything other than a coat over his nightclothes and a pair of boots.

In fact, he hadn’t thought about anything as he stormed out earlier that morning. He only felt the stinging in his eyes and the urge to run away from it all. It was very uncharacteristic of him to do that. On the contrary, Dick was always the first in the line of fire, a man who saw things through until the end, no matter the circumstances. So, when he felt like fleeing, retreating, surrendering, it was hard to pinpoint exactly what had done it for him. The cold, sickly gray skin. The clumps of hair on the pillow. The shallow breathing that threatened to silence at any moment. Although looking back at it, it was the combination of all, simmering together into an explosive concoction deep in his chest. What had lit the fuse was the moment Alfred gently handed her a glass of water, carefully putting it within her shaky grasp. She had used all her strength to hold it for a few seconds, the water splashing in the glass as she trembled, before it fell from her hold and shattered on the ground. Even worse was looking up from the mess to see her losing consciousness once again.

_You need to think about what’s best for you, and not for me, _she’d said a while back. He remembered the look in those tired, dark eyes of her. It was a bit ironic, really. She’d gazed at him with a look of pity on her face as if _he_ was the one close to death. _I’ve told you plenty of times that it would be perfectly fine if you__-_

_Left? _He’d cut her off. _Yeah, I know. You keep bringing it up as if it’s actually an option. _He had almost felt offended as he dismissed her suggestion. It was unthinkable, to just leave. Sure, it was hard to watch her slowly kill herself. In fact, it felt like acid was poured over his heart every time he’d looked at her in that bed. But Dick insisted that he could handle it, shoulder the burden of caring for her; he even insisted on keeping high hopes that maybe things would change.

After the events of that morning, he wasn’t so sure as to whether hoping was worth it anymore. Although, he’d still never leave, like the fool he was. Inside, Alfred watched Dick through the large kitchen window, observing his behavior silently. He’d come to the window several times within the past few hours, hoping that maybe next time he wouldn’t be there. That hadn’t been the case though.

Alfred sighed quietly as he made his way over to the counter where his cutting board was set. He’d been chopping all sorts of fruits into tiny pieces in hopes that the dying girl upstairs might accept to eat them. It was definitely wishful thinking. Maybe he could dump a few in a blender with water, something less frightening for her. As he emptied a cup of fruit into the blender, he heard the soft sound of a door closing somewhere.

Dick was slowly dragging his steps as he walked into the kitchen, his stare blank and tired. He felt numb after standing outside for so long, but he felt numb on the inside even more. His movements were lethargic, and it seemed to take all of his strength to pull one of the stools out from the kitchen island. “You’re wasting that. Just… make it into a smoothie for Damian or something.” He murmured, his voice soft and distracted as he sat.

“Master Damian isn’t the one who desperately needs nutrition in him,” Alfred said, blending everything together before serving it in a small glass. “I think, sir, that it doesn’t hurt to try-“ He was cut off by the loud sound of a fist hitting the counter.

“You and I BOTH know that all this trying does hurt. It’s fucking killing me. Don’t tell me you think that none of this hurts.” Dick retorted, his voice cold. He stared at the man in front of him for a second before realizing the abruptness of his outburst. “I’m… I’m sorry Alfred, I just…” He began, feeling his eyes sting as they threatened to spill out the tears that were forming.

There was a heavy silence in the room as Alfred watched his resolve slowly break again. Whatever was left anyways. It’s not like it didn’t pain Alfred to know what it would do to Dick if she didn’t make it. Not like it didn’t pain him to know what it would do to everyone, including him. But he never pushed her like anyone else to eat, he didn’t beg nor yell, nor breakdown in front of her; and remarkably, for the past few months, he’d been the only one to get her to consume anything just to keep her alive.

“I’ll take this up now, sir.” Alfred suggested.

“No, I can do it. Thank you, Alfred.” Dick murmured, grabbing the glass and heading upstairs.

There really wasn’t even any guarantee that she was awake right now. If Dick was being honest with himself, sometimes he had the sinking feeling in his chest that one day he would go upstairs, and she would stop breathing. He would find her pale and unresponsive. There would be nothing he could say to her, nothing left for her to say to him, and it would all be over. He felt his heart drop at the thought, his eyes watering up again. It’s not like the possibility wasn’t there, but it was still inconceivable to an extent that this once warm and bubbly woman would fade away, frigid and still. He knew that if she ended up dying, his heart would die with her.

Stopping right in front of the bedroom door, he felt a familiar anxious feeling in his gut, hoping there was still life in the room. Although, to his surprise, as he entered the room, there was a pair of fatigued brown eyes staring back at him.

“You’re awake.” He observed as he made his way over to the bedside and set the glass down on the nightstand.

“By the grace of God.” She smiled at him, a soft expression on her face. “I can’t say I’m not ready to go back to sleep though, but that’s every minute of every day.” Her attempt at lacing her tone with humor was pathetic at best as her words came out barely audible and raspy, but God, Dick felt a warmth fall over him that he hadn’t experienced in weeks just seeing her smile. She hadn’t smiled in a while.

“Well, it’s not cloudy outside, and the Gotham Rouges won last night, or so I hear. Maybe there’s something good in the air. Gotta be, if you’re actually sitting up.” Dick mused, taking a seat on the bed next to her. His hand went to her hair, quietly tucking a strand behind her ear.

“Oh yeah, there’s definitely good energy here. I think we should go sledding if the weather is alright.” The young woman joked, slowly sliding her cold hand over his. The warmth felt nice, and any chance she had, she’d touch him. Although, it was hard to let herself, considering that she feared he thought she felt disgusting. Like touching a corpse.

“Yeah, no. Maybe we could later though…” Dick trailed off, eyes falling on the cup right next to her. “If you drink it, we can go sledding all you want. And in the summer, we can swim and go places and do all sorts of amazing things. You know Bruce owns an island? A whole _island_. Doesn’t that sound great?” He rambled, wrapping his hand around her smaller one. He felt every cell in his body trying to will her to reach over and grab the glass.

Her eyes stayed on his as she did the math in her head. She felt panic just at the thought of drinking the whole thing, not knowing what was in it. She’d caught on to the fact they tried slipping her protein, sugar, vitamins and all sorts of unfamiliar things in her drink that she could not calculate the numbers on. “Yeah, it does sound great…” She murmured thoughtfully.

“Of course it does. It’ll be perfect, and we can do so much. Don’t you want that? We can go anywhere and do stuff, and you can actually go out-“ His rambling started sounding desperate as he grabbed the glass and started raising it to her lips, but the look on her face made him freeze. Her eyes were watery and glistening, and her lip was quivering.

“Oh, I didn’t-“ He started as he pulled his arm back, going to set the glass down. He felt like punching himself in the face for being so insensitive. _So stupid, so so fucking stupid, now she’s never gonna drink it, she hates herself, she…_

She gently grabbed onto his arm, stopping him from placing the glass back on the nightstand. The saddest smile pulled across her lips, and he could see her tears run down her sickly face. And then the impossible happened.

Cold fingers brushed against his, as she took the glass from him and began sipping slowly. Dick could tell it took every last drop of willpower for her to do it, took every single part of her to not freak out right then and there. She didn’t drink much, and honestly, he didn’t expect her to. He didn’t even notice he was staring at her, mouth gaping a bit until she reached over and shut his jaw for him.

“I do want those things. I… I really do.” She whispered, gaze falling to her lap. Her tears felt hot on her face as she shut her eyes, trying to think of what she could say. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t.” Dick breathed, reaching out to her and holding her in his arms. He was so careful and gentle, terrified to break her fragile body. “Don’t be sorry, it isn’t your fault. I swear to you that none of this is your fault, okay?”

She felt the warmth of his body against hers, and it almost made her shiver. She had wanted him to leave so badly, for so long. She never wanted this for him, never wanted to make him watch her slowly wither away. But she knew better, and she knew he wasn’t going anywhere no matter how painful it was for him. So going against every part of her screaming to not do it, to not eat or drink, to think of the numbers, to punish herself, she pulled away and sniffed quietly as she took another sip from the glass.

And for the first time in months, Dick felt like he could breathe.


End file.
